


Bakari

by alyjude_sideburns



Series: The Bakari Series [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Ellison travels to Bwindi as a tourist to see the gorillas there, and meets the 'ghost man', who protects the forest.   Revised 2009.</p><p>See end notes for specific warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bakari

 

 

 

The young woman clutched the small child to her breast. The plane was going down and everyone knew it. It was amazingly quiet on board as one hundred and twenty people came to terms with the truth and prayed. The young mother was no different, but all her prayers were centered on just one person; her baby son. She was praying to a God she wasn't sure she even believed in, let alone trusted; praying that he would spare her boy.

A tiny but remarkably strong hand grasped a bit of her hair and tugged until she tore her gaze from the horrific view out the window in order to look into her baby's wide, blue eyes. He was wearing that small baby frown, the one that said everything he couldn't yet verbalize, namely asking what was wrong.

She closed her eyes and sent up another plea. "Please, please, spare him, he's so special, please, save him."

Tears pooled in her son's eyes and he whimpered before tucking his head under her chin even as he started to pat her cheek in comfort. That truly undid her as she began to pray out loud. "Please, save him."

A thunderous noise assaulted the passengers of the Kisoro AirFlight Electrojet as its metal met treetops at an alarming rate. The left wing was sheared off and, as the plane listed sickeningly to the right, air rushed into the gaping hole left by the loss of the wing. Suddenly the young woman's arms were horribly, terrifyingly empty.

As the right wing hit the ground, her terrifying scream of, " **No!** " was swallowed up by the gigantic explosion.

***

The jungle quiet was broken by the sound of man's invention. Engines coughed and sputtered as the great silver-winged bird tried to gain height and failed. Monkeys stopped their frantic flights through the dense trees; birds skittered away from the path of the huge monstrosity that was far too low, dangerously low.

The plane lurched almost as if drunk before dipping down, twisting until its nose was down and, like a missile, aimed straight for the ground. At the last minute, it veered right and lifted ever so slightly - one final attempt to avoid the inevitable. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. The wing sliced through trees and was severed from the silver body.

Great, lumbering beasts below heard a high, shrill, penetrating scream immediately followed by what sounded like one of their own, crying in panic.

The silver monster continued its destructive path through the forest until it gave one final, heaving glide to the right, the only wing left digging into ground and ripping the jet apart.

The explosion lit up the jungle, the sound spreading out, almost deafening in its intensity.

Fire - burning flames in blue, orange and yellow, engulfed the silver machine and the screams. Finally, there was silence. Deadly silence.

The more curious of the jungle inhabitants moved forward, sniffing, twittering or slithering, but the residual heat soon had them backing off.

Several large, dark shapes moved quietly through the trees to make their way through the debris. Dark, nimble fingers plucked up bits and pieces of clothing as the brighter colors caught their eyes. They lifted the materials to their faces and smoothed them over their dark fur. Loose objects were pilfered, kept and hidden to inspect and play with at a later date.

Ears still ringing, one dark shape stayed back to search for the one sound that had enticed her to the scene - the sound of a baby, of one of them.

The great she-beast, so recently bereft of her own small baby, started moving quickly through the trees, nose quivering, eyes searching....

***

The baby boy was dropped in the middle of a patch of dense undergrowth, his landing greatly softened by mounds of moss, leaves, and branches that were suspended between great tall trees, growing so closely together, they served as a canopy.

For a moment, he lay stunned, the air having been knocked out of his tiny lungs. The velocity of his travel from his mother's arms to this nest had literally torn his blue jumper from his small body, but the jungle was warm and comforting, like his own crib at home.

Soon, breathing was easy again and his natural curiosity took over. He rolled over, pushed himself to his crawling position and swayed over to the edge of his nest. Unfortunately, the movement was just enough to dislodge him from his safe perch and he tumbled down the short distance to the jungle floor. He landed with a soft, "oof", shook his head and, having only recently learned to stand and take shaky steps, he immediately reached out with one tiny hand for purchase and found it in the trunk of a tree. Using its rough surface, he pulled himself up, a bit unsteadily, but up nevertheless.

The area he occupied was lush with greenery and bits of sunlight streaking the ground, all of which caught his attention. He reached out, almost fell, but before he could try again, the light was suddenly gone, blocked out by a huge shadow. The baby looked up and into soft brown eyes.

***

The she-gorilla had finally pinpointed the source of the smell. There, on the ground, a baby, and yet, not.

The creature took her warring stance by getting down and resting her arms on her knuckles, brow furrowed, teeth barred.

The baby watched, fascinated, before he too got down on his hands and knees and then squished up his features in a semblance of the funny face opposite him. Then he fell back, legs kicking wildly as the jungle was filled with the sound of his giggling.

The she-gorilla's eyes grew round, her mouth dropped opened - but then she smiled a gorilla smile. She rocked back on her rear, legs out in front of her as small sounds issued from her throat - sounds that were soft and inviting to the baby. His giggles stopped as he rolled clumsily onto his stomach and back up on hands and knees. He waited, unsure, but the sounds were so like his mother's that he was urged forward, his little diapered butt swaying with his movements. The gorilla put out one large hand, black fingers wiggling in invitation and, as he latched onto one, he started giggling again.

Slowly the she-gorilla let her hand rise, the baby holding on as his body rose with the hand. He kicked his legs and grinned at the fun ride. Then she brought him to her breast, cupping his small frame with one large hand, fingers drifting over hair that was so much softer than her own. His skin was so smooth, but warm and alive. His heart beat like her own and, in that moment, she claimed him as hers.

***

The fire was long out, the scavengers long since gone, satisfied in their hunger. The mountain gorillas had moved back into the deepest recesses of their forest home, their trophies wrapped around massive shoulders and necks, or laid out in soft jungle grass to sleep on and then play with come the new morning.

Three she-gorillas lay in nests, their babes playing gently about them, sleep not far away. Several feet from the domestic scene, two young male gorillas, not yet of breeding age, played a game of roughhouse and, on a small rise overlooking his domain, sat the great silverback, their leader and guardian.

His attention was suddenly riveted to the stand of trees just south of his family. He didn't need to move because he could smell the scent of his mate, but he frowned at the very different scent that clung to her. The trees parted and she moved forward, a small object held protectively to her breast.

Taking notice, her brothers and sisters sat up and moved to her side, their curiosity stronger than their need for sleep. The giant leader remained aloof, seemingly uninterested.

Slowly she let her hand drop down enough to show her family her treasure.

Snorts, huffing air and stamping feet greeted the vision of the small, mostly hairless creature curled up in the crook of her arm, sleeping serenely, small hands fisted, exhausted legs twitching.

One she-gorilla tentatively reached out with a finger and ran it down the vulnerable back and then up to feel the downy soft hair on the small head. She snuffed in delight and another she-gorilla sniffed and gave a low chitter. The two males just shrugged and moved off for another round of play before a nap.

The new mother moved slowly toward her mate as he waited patiently, eyes fixed on the white blur against her dark chest. When she was a few feet from his position, she cradled the babe across her arms and held them out for his inspection. He sniffed, touched, frowned, then looked into her eyes, saw the need, but was uncertain. At that moment, the bundle moved and stretched out, its tiny fists opening. Eyes blinked up at the fierce brown eyes of the silverback.

The sky blue of the innocent eyes touched the silverback in the deepest corner of his mind. He drew back, almost afraid, but then the baby grinned and chortled as his fingers reached for him. He moved in, sniffed again, and hesitantly stuck one finger against the baby's tummy, which tickled and gave rise to giggles that seemed to swirl around the great beast, ensnaring his heart and soul. He looked at his mate, nodded as if unconcerned, then turned his back, the protector once again.

She sighed in relief, brought her child back to her breast and let him feed. She lumbered to her own nest where she settled in, baby resting on her chest and suckling, its small sounds of contentment reverberating through her body.

She was a mother again. And this baby was hers. Safe.

The jungle closed its arms around the machine of man - the night deepened - and the gorillas slept, safe in the knowledge that their protector watched.

***

_Present Day - British Airways Flight 307_

 

The man sat, his body still, eyes fixed on the view from his window seat. In one hour, he would be landing at Entebbe Airport and then it would be a forty minute drive to Kampala, the Ugandan capitol - his ultimate destination: the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park.

To anyone interested enough to look, he would appear calm, easygoing and assured - but that was far from the case. He was exhausted, in pain, and fear was a constant companion.

From his early childhood, he'd carried a dream of someday visiting Africa, specifically, the mountainous regions of Uganda where he wanted nothing more than to sit deep in the rainforest and wait for a glimpse of a gorilla. A lifelong wish about to come true - he hoped.

He could be a patient man and the thought of waiting for hours, for just one glimpse, brought peace to his troubled soul.

His life was in shambles, his mind a puzzle he'd yet to solve, so, on the advice of friends, he'd given in, taken a leave of absence and booked the necessary flights. First up had been the American Airlines flight from his home in Cascade, Washington to New York - then, the British Airways leg to Gatwick and, from there, the final leg on British Airways to Entebbe.

A car would be waiting for him at the airport and he was actually looking forward to the two days and nights he'd spend in Kambala. He was booked into the Speke Hotel, where he hoped to enjoy rest and relaxation before beginning his journey into the mountains - a journey that might have no end.

His future was in jeopardy and, while he would never have consciously acknowledge this fact, the truth was that if peace escaped him, if the burning in his gut could not be assuaged, then there was a corner of his mind that told him Africa was a good place to disappear.

The pilot announced the descent into Entebbe, the seatbelt sign flashed, and the man wondered what the next few weeks would hold. Salvation or death. And did he care?

***

The difference in the air was the first thing he noticed as he stepped out of the Entebbe International Airport. He'd been expecting the heat and dryness since t was January, the middle of the dry season. But air had the potential to cause him pain, even the Washington State air. But this, this air caressed him, welcomed him, brushed over him like the softest silk imaginable.

The potential for noise that was unusual, and therefore again, potentially dangerous, had also worried him - and the airport hadn't disappointed him. He'd girded himself for the hustle and bustle of moving bodies, the different pitch pitch of so many voices in too many languages - even for the loudspeaker announcing incoming and outgoing. He'd readied himself for the bodies with all their various scents, knowing they'd bombard him. But now, outside - and as compared to inside - there was only blessed silence, which was weird because nothing was completely silent for Jim Ellison.

And yet....like the air moving gently around him, these sounds were welcome, different and, oddly enough, non-intrusive.

Without realizing it, he'd begun to smile, his body relaxing as his muscles unwound.

Jim Ellison hadn't looked forward to anything in weeks, but now, with his body responding to this country and his pain ebbing, he found himself actually jogging to the waiting rental car, eager to begin his 'vacation'.

Jim could easily have driven directly into Bwindi, but his plans didn't include the typical "Gorilla Tracking" packages offered to tourists. He'd obtained a special permit that would allow him access into the deeper regions of the Impenetrable Forest in order to track un-chartered gorilla families. The man, Ebo, who'd made this possible lived in Kambala and was a friend of Jim's boss, Captain Simon Banks and, with his connections, had managed to secure the limited pass that would open the doors for Jim's adventure.

Gorilla Tracking parties had begun in 1993, but only two gorilla families were tracked; the Mubare and Habinyanja groups. Tracking parties consisted of no more than six individuals per day, per group - but no way was Jim going to go the tourist route. He wanted to experience his meeting alone, as much do to with his difficulty with so many sights and sounds as with his need for privacy when facing the great beasts.

The world was full of exceptions and, thankfully so, because for the right price, the Ugandan government would - and could - grant private tracking permits. In this case, the price had been double what he would have spent for a typical gorilla package, but he didn't mind paying more, as he'd been assured by Ebo, in one of several emails, that the additional money was used to protect the gorillas of Bwindi, which, he'd learned, housed almost half the entire world's gorilla population.

Finally on his way, in a car that was a bit too small for him, he took in the scenic drive along Lake Victoria. Once again, Jim was surprised to find the view obviously pleasing, but also incredibly soothing. The directions provided by Ebo were perfect and, less than forty minutes later, he was pulling up in front of the Speke Hotel, a beautiful, sprawling, colonial-style building that immediately conveyed its European background. When he pulled up to the front, his luggage was taken out and rolled inside where he was guided to registration.  
He had only three things on his mind as he was shown his room; shower, change and meet Ebo on the famous Speke Terrace.

The transition from Cascade to Africa was almost too easy. He felt immediately welcome, immediately home. The cultural shock should have been intense but, instead, he experienced a tingly sensation and found himself looking at the people he passed as if he should know one of them, as if....someone were waiting for him. He felt an excitement in the pit of his stomach, almost like butterflies, an excitement that said something was close and if he could just reach out and touch it, he'd never know pain again.

As he walked out onto the Terrace, catching his first glimpse of an African sunset, he felt it again, even stronger, as if someone else were seeing the same sunset, at the same time, and this person knew, knew he was here, watching as well.

He couldn't help it, his eyes left the spectacle in front of him and began to search, hoping he would know when his eyes found--

"Detective Ellison?"

The voice was low and with a distinct British accent. He turned to face a man about his height with short, black hair - and a huge grin.

"Ebo?"

He nodded and extended his hand. "Yes, Jambo! Welcome to my country, Detective Ellison. Your flight was pleasant?"

They shook, both smiling as Jim nodded. "It was very pleasant." He cocked his head and asked, "Jambo?"

"A word with many meanings, Detective, but in this case, a greeting."

"Well, then, Jambo!"

Ebo laughed, delighted at his new friends embrace of his language. He indicated a nearby table and said, "Please, shall we sit and enjoy the remainder of our sunset? I ordered it especially for my guest."

"I'm honored and you've definitely outdone yourself - it's spectacular."

Ebo guided him to the table he'd already secured, next to the rail where the view was even more spectacular. He ordered a drink for each of them and then sat back to study his "charge". He was surprised at how relaxed the man appeared, as he'd been warned by his good friend, Simon Banks, that Jim Ellison was ill and suffering greatly. And while he was very pale and the shadows under his eyes rather pronounced, he nevertheless appeared truly relaxed.

"I'm very glad you did not object to my request that you come to Kambala first. One must see my city when one comes to Uganda and I could not permit otherwise."

"For the miracle you accomplished, I would gladly have driven to hell. But this," he waved his arm to encompass everything he could see, "is definitely worth it."

Ebo leaned forward and said softly, careful that no one else would hear, "Simon mentioned that you have been unwell?"

Good old Simon. Trust him to watch out for his detective even half way across the world.

"Not ill. Just....tired." It was the only word he could come up with and, while not exactly a lie, after all, pain and fear can definitely tire a man out, it wasn't the whole truth either.

"So, I will make sure this adventure gives you all you desire, Rafiki."  
At Jim's raised eyebrow, Ebo grinned and added, "Rafiki - friend."

Friend. Yes, Jim already felt a kinship with the man who would be his guide. Grinning, he said, "Rafiki."

Ebo nodded and both men turned their attention back to the glory unfolding in front of them.

***

When the sun had finished its slow and beautiful glide below the horizon, Ebo suggested an early dinner at the Rock Garden Cafe and now, after an excellent meal of rack of lamb, they sat once again gazing out over the city, sipping brandy and enjoying the peace.

Eventually Jim's curiosity got the better of him and he had to quiz his guide and new friend. "So tell me, what exactly happens tomorrow?"

"Ah, yes, the detective surfaces." His smile softened the words as he added, "We shall begin our journey early, at sunrise, which here in Uganda is always at six. We shall travel the difficult path to Bwindi, which is why I suggested you rent a four-wheel drive. We will be taking the eastern route, to Ruhija, where we will stay one night before beginning our trek into the jungle. Our accommodations will be minimal at best, as you requested. The route I have chosen is long and steep but, in my opinion, provides the best possible views of our forest."

"Sounds perfect. I take it we're on foot once we reach Ruhija?"

"Yes. We will travel for one day up the mountain and you can expect to see gorillas late on that first day. We will be in what my people call the "ghost" land."

"Ghost land? Sounds intriguing."

Ebo laughed outright, the deep sound bringing others around in their seats, smiles on their faces. "Foolish, but not intriguing," he finally said. "You have undoubtedly read Tarzan?" At Jim's nod, he said, "Well, the myth is alive and well in our forest in the form of a ghost man who walks with the gorillas. I travel throughout the region and have never seen so much as a glimpse of this creature - walking or swinging. But it makes for interesting tourist propaganda and if it preserves our National Forest by bringing in the tourist dollar, thus protecting its inhabitants, than I approve."

"I feel like I should be taking notes...watch for gorillas and man swinging through trees."  
"There is, however, one myth that is real. A tribe that co-exists with the gorillas and are never seen by outsiders. They are named for dusk, thus they are called the Magharibi. Their name is most apt as they do not come out until the sun has set and they can melt into the night. Perhaps our 'ghost man' lives among them."

"They sound almost...magical."

Ebo seemed surprised by Jim's choice of words, but not disappointed. "Yes, that is a good word for them. Magical. There _is_ one white man living with them - a priest, Father Benjamin - and a better man never lived. Perhaps I can arrange a meeting?"

"If the meeting includes a visit with the Magharibi, than yes, I would be honored."

"It shall happen, Rafiki."

***

As darkness fell over the mountain, the night creatures came out to scavenge and hunting. The sounds of the jungle changed as howls filled the air. Above the jungle floor, a dark shape moved gracefully through the trees, using the creepers and parasitic vines of the mistletoe and orchid to fuel his flight over the ground below.

The shape landed, a sturdy branch his perch. He gazed down at the beasts below him; his family. They moved slowly through the bamboo and he smiled but did not join them. Instead his gaze seemed to move beyond his jungle as if he could see something - or someone - beyond the boundaries that marked his home. He felt the presence, believed it to be moving towards him. For the first time in his many seasons, he felt restless, earning for something he could not guess, but knew, knew that it was coming.

Bright blue eyes blinked rapidly as he brought himself back to the present. He shook his head, long hair whipping about him before dropping effortlessly down to the floor. It was time to join his family.

But he could smell the change that was coming - and he wasn't altogether certain whether it would bode well - or not.

***

Twenty miles from Bwindi, just outside its borders, men gathered. Soldiers of fortune, hired to bring death and destruction to the National Forest in order to force the closure of the park. A huge consortium funded the "army", men whose only desire was the death of the mountain gorilla because of the wealth their poaching would bring them.

The soldiers sat around the camp, weapons on their laps, cleaning, planning, giving no thought to the beauty they'd been hired to destroy, no thought to the majesty, the greatness of the creatures they sought to wipe from this earth.

  
Nor did they give a thought to anyone that might exist in the jungles of the Impenetrable Forest that could stop them.

***

Jim Ellison slept deep and undisturbed, a rarity for him of late. Seconds before his alarm went off, his eyes opened. Today, the Impenetrable Forest and gorillas. He scrambled out of bed, eager to begin, the excitement of the day rooted again in his chest.

He grinned foolishly through his morning ritual, his eyes continually going back to his veranda, to the vista beyond. He felt like he should say something to someone, but he didn't have a clue what to say, or who he should say it to.

Finally, as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck, he said,  
"I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there." Then he laughed at the absurdity of the words, but as he moved out to his patio, he repeated them, almost as a prayer. "I'm coming. Stay, don't leave until I get there."

***

The journey to Ruhija was just as Ebo promised and Jim was glad he'd turned over the task of driving to his guide. He simply drank in every thing in sight, completely unprepared the lush, mysterious land around him, full of every shade of green imaginable. Medicine for his soul.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the pre-planned campsite and, by the time they'd set it up, Jim was. Their supper consisted of a delicious stew, the ingredients of which Ebo refused to divulge, saying only that Jim would be better off not knowing. Jim smiled, wickedly, as he realized that he was eating a simple but exotic version of beef stew. Ebo didn't know that the man sitting with him at the campfire was able to taste beyond the normal range and that, while his sensory abilities were often agony to him, there were times, like now, when they came in very handy.

"Um, yes, I'm sure you're right, Ebo, but we have beef in America, you know," he said slyly.

Ebo squinted at his new friend, then grinned as he realized his charge had not been fooled. He gave an elegant shrug. "I tried, Rafiki, I tried. But have you ever tasted such a stew?"

"You have me there. Many of the herbs and spices are new to me, but I'm pretty sure I taste cinnamon and...thyme?"

"Perhaps you are the ghost man of whom they speak?"

Jim laughed heartily, enjoying his sense of taste for the first time that he could remember. What was it about the air here? Every sense seemed to be as heightened as usual, but without the accompanying pain and confusion. "No, Ebo, no ghost man here. Just a policeman from America."

Ebo looked as if he doubted Jim's words, but was content to allow their journey to unveil his secrets.

They agreed to turn in early and went to their respective tents, but once settled, Jim found himself needing to be outside, the confines of his small tent keeping him from this new world. He picked up his sleeping bag and took it out and over to the campfire. But instead of crawling in, he remained standing while drinking in the night and finding himself amazed at the silence of the jungle.  
He was so close now, so close that the hairs on his arm were standing straight up, as if he were electrically charged. He let his hearing take center stage and only then could he make out the sounds of the jungle. Everything around him was crystal clear, every sound separate and to be enjoyed. He let the jungle envelope him, caress him, much as he would a lover, and, as the minutes passed, he still didn't move. A shadow seemed to glide around him, not yet touching, not close enough to touch, but there, comforting and real.

Was he going insane? Had his mind finally caved under the pressure of his senses? Was any of this real?

Euphoria was certainly a symptom of insanity, but if that's what he was experiencing, so be it. It beat anything else he'd gone through so he'd keep it.

He finally dropped onto his bag, lay back, hands behind his head and gazed up at the brilliant night sky. Would whatever he was moving toward - come tomorrow or maybe Saturday? He didn't know, but then again, he was a patient man.

He rolled over and slept.

*****

Four dark shapes moved toward the small stream, one shape lighter in color. Suddenly, the lighter shape stood straight. The gorillas with him stopped their forward movement, heads tilted, snuffling in the night air, waiting.  
The man made a few low noises, then gestured a warning with his hands. He moved swiftly to a nearby tree, climbed easily and rapidly until he reached a top branch. Once again he took to the sky, flying across his land, knowing there was danger, but uncertain of its cause.

As he faded from their sight, the others went quickly to warn the rest of their family. It was time to move up, to move deeper into their mountain.

***

They were late by two hours in breaking camp, but by eight, they'd breakfasted, packed and were finally headed up into heart of Bwindi. As they traveled, Jim was once again struck by the sounds of silence. He knew that life was all around him, in the trees, the brush and underfoot, and yet - so much quiet.

The air was thick with life as small winged insects zipped about him, never quite landing, their hum the first sound he was conscious of as they moved out and up. Ebo had given him a natural insect repellent that neither irritated his skin nor his sensitive sense of smell, and it worked.

He could feel the heat, the life of this land thrumming in his blood as an excitement built around his heart and mind. He'd never felt so alive, so in tune with the world. A world that just a few days ago was an obstacle course for the detective. A world of traps; sounds that could devastate him, send his head reeling, or lights that could brighten, sparkle and fracture, intense and painful. Or the feel of materials that could suddenly drive his skin insane. But since his arrival, he'd been in complete relief, even daring to try to let his senses work _for_ him instead of against him. So far, he'd only been marginally successful, but even that bit of success gave him hope.

They traveled easily, Jim having no trouble keeping up with Ebo's pace. He was used to the jungle, even if that jungle had been in South America. He was in excellent shape and more than once had caught Ebo looking at him in wonder, but pleased that Jim was able to equal Ebo in stamina.

As they moved up, Ebo pointed out the many and varied species of jungle life and it didn't take long for Jim to begin to actually see and hear them. The most prominent "noisemakers" were the monkeys swinging above their heads, chattering as they flew, sometimes even in anger at what they undoubtedly perceived as an invasion of their territory. The Colobus were the most prevalent, but as they went higher, Ebo would go off the path, pulling Jim with him, to suddenly stop and point out a family of chimpanzees foraging, and not just a bit hostile and sometimes downright nasty.

Jim was constantly amazed at the color of this world. At first glance, one saw only green and snatches of brown. And while it was every variation of green and brown imaginable, it was still, just green and brown... However, as Jim's jaded American eyes grew more accustomed to the jungle and, as his senses went quietly and faithfully to work, he really began to peer into the growth and was amazed at the amount of color that literally jumped out at him. He found himself almost mesmerized by the deep, rich purples of the jungle orchids; the fuchsia and intense blues and pinks of many and varied butterflies; and finally, how often he found himself entranced by a flower of incredible color - only to have it fly off, wings incandescent in flight.

Then there were the birds - of every color and color combination possible. They had no fear of man so dipped low, twittering at the two men and chattering up a storm.

The amount of water in the form of streams and waterfalls became another source of amazement for Jim. It was every jungle movie he'd ever seen, and more. They were moving along one of the streams, just before noon, when they reached the second waterfall of the day, a fall so enticing, Jim immediately requested they stop and take a break. Ebo agreed and added that this would be a perfect spot for lunch.

Their noonday meal was simple, consisting of some fruit, pungent cheeses, crackers and bits of dried, lightly seasoned meat, but unlike any jerky Jim had ever had.

When their lunch had settled, Jim decided it was time for that swim. There was no way to ignore the waterfall and the sparkling blue depths of the pool of water. He just hoped it was safe to swim - and since there was only one way to find out - he asked.

"Ebo, is swimming in this stream safe?"

"Ah, it is inviting, isn't it? But at this level, no, I would not recommend it. The water snakes and parasites are highly dangerous. But later, as we climb higher, yes, there will be amble opportunity for a swim in an even more lush part of our mountain."

Now Jim had both the anticipation of seeing gorillas as well as a swim to occupy his mind as they packed up and moved out.

***

It was after two when Ebo stopped suddenly, concern in every line of his body.

"What is it?", Jim asked.

"There is something wrong. We should have seen signs of gorilla foraging by now. Bent reeds, broken bamboo, indentations on the jungle floor - but so far, nothing. Our gorillas have an uncanny knack of sensing danger and moving deeper into the forest for protection. I'm very afraid that may be the case here. They have not even ventured down today. I am worried."

"What should we do? Keep going or head back down?"

"The danger could be as simple as a crazed cat on the rampage - or something more sinister." He looked up at Jim quizzically. "You know of our history, of the rebel uprising two years ago?"

"I'm aware of the tourists who were killed, yes. They closed the park if I recall correctly. Several gorillas perished as well."

Ebo nodded sadly. "We lost eight during the war."

"So you think we could be dealing with another insurrection?"

"No, absolutely not. But...something has kept our gorillas away."

"Well, if I have any say in what we do - I'd like to keep going."

Ebo smiled at his friend's words, not in the least surprised at his choice.  
"Then we go forward. I believe we can handle anything we might find. You are a good man to travel with, I can see this. So we continue."

Jim didn't tell Ebo that, while he too felt the unease of the jungle around them, he also felt that tingling again, so strong now that he could no more have turned back than he could have sprouted wings and lifted off the jungle floor.

***

The man glided silently through the trees, moving steadily down the mountain even as he appeared to be climbing. Trouble was coming; he sensed it - and it was his job to find it before it found his family.

As he moved quickly and quietly, exchanging vines, climbing up, higher, ever higher, skimming the very tops of trees, taking a route he knew by heart, his strong hands propelling him, he felt more than danger, he felt a sense of - homecoming. As if the danger - and the thing he'd been waiting for - were, while not one and the same, entwined somehow.

He was close now, close to the tourists he'd spotted earlier in the week - the ones who came with cameras for capturing his gorillas.

***

Jim and Ebo traveled another hour with still no sign of gorillas. For Jim, it was a disappointment, but at the same time, he'd begun to feel as though they were being watched. Maybe the apes were around them after all - or it was some other animal? But then the tingling feeling returned and he found himself looking up and around him, trying to find something he couldn't quantify. Thirty minutes ago, he could have sworn he'd seen a flash of white high above him, but he'd shaken his head and smiled as Ebo's words about a _ghost man_ came back to him.

No ghost man, he was sure. He just hoped it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him.

Suddenly he jerked his head up at a sound he knew could be heard by no one but him - and yes, there it was again, that brief glimpse of streaking paleness... gone before he could get a fix. But it seemed to be moving ahead of them now so maybe there'd be another chance to get a better look later.

***

There were two men below him - one he recognized, a friend to his family, but the other was a stranger - and yet, somehow - not. As he'd swung above them, the stranger glanced up, his intense blue eyes seeming capable of seeing so much more than anyone else. It was a good thing that he, himself, was so adept at blending into his mountain or otherwise, he knew the stranger would have spotted him. He wanted to stay, to watch him, but the danger was close now. Unfortunately, the stranger was moving toward it, not away from it.

***

The stench hit him so hard, it almost drove him to his knees.

"Jim? What is it?"

Features etched with concern, Ebo stood by him as he remained doubled over and retching.

"Blood," he finally whispered. "So much blood. I can't - breathe. Can't you smell it?"

Ebo could smell nothing out of the ordinary, but somehow he didn't doubt for a minute that his friend could.

Eventually Jim straightened as the sour, coppery scent faded, or he was simply becoming immune to it. Without a thought, he began walking straight ahead, knowing that Ebo would follow.

Fifteen minutes later they entered a clearing - and the sight that greeted them sent Ebo off to the edge in order to give his lunch back to the jungle.

Four people. Three men, one woman. All dead, their bodies hacked to pieces, the blood covering the jungle floor even now, still wet and slippery.

Their cameras, clothing, sleeping bags, food and water were scattered about, torn, ripped and dismembered - just like their owners - so obviously nothing had been taken.

A shaken, pale Ebo returned to Jim's side, his head moving in denial. "No creature would do this, Rafiki, I know this."

"I agree. This was the work of man. The wounds are from a sharp weapon, a machete perhaps. But why?"

Even as he asked, Jim moved about the perimeter of the clearing, his eyes clued to the ground. "Six, no seven, men - in combat boots."

Ebo watched the detective at work and, as he heard those words, fear struck.

Finally Jim straightened. "Ebo, this wasn't a rebel attack - too quick and efficient. Once they were done, they moved out almost immediately, taking nothing with them. They meant to kill as destructively as possible and nothing more."

As Jim talked, his senses still focused too heavily on the carnage around him, he was unaware of the man several feet above them, kneeling on a tree branch, hand on a vine, watching.

At Jim's words, he lifted his head, tilted it, then rapidly stood and propelled himself off the branch. As he soared through the air, he could see the men who'd done the killing and they were coming back down the mountain - and headed straight for the two at the site of the massacre.

He could not allow the stranger to be hurt. It must not happen.

He changed direction, hoping he'd be in time.

***

The soldiers moved stealthily forward, rifles held in front of them. A scout had returned to tell of two more on the mountain; a guide and tourist, just below their previous position. They had only one objective - to kill these two as well.

***

Jim grabbed Ebo's arm and whispered, "Men just ahead. Our killers, I think."

"We must move swiftly, Rafiki." But before either man could move, two armed men burst through the underbrush, ready to kill.

Jim didn't pause, he simply pushed Ebo out of the way and launched himself at the nearest of the two. The mercenary was unprepared for such a move so Jim landed heavily against him and they both went down.

As Ebo was shoved from Jim's side, the other mercenary fired, the bullet passing harmlessly through the air - where a moment before, Ebo had stood. Seeing that he couldn't get to Jim - and that the other man was readying to fire again, Ebo scrambled through the jungle as bullets flew past.

The man quickly raced after Ebo, not realizing he didn't have a chance, that this was Ebo's world and there were very few who could so successfully disappear.

Meanwhile, Jim was still fighting the other man, trying desperately to get the weapon. He managed to land a brutal kick to the man's stomach which allowed Jim to roll away from him. At the same time, the mercenary recovered quickly and reached for his knife. He was good and he was fast - and the knife cut through the air, found Jim's arm and sliced through soft flesh. The man then dropped the weapon and swung up the rifle, but now Jim was ready and, in spite of the slash to his arm, dove for the protection of the jungle.

 

***

From high above, the young man witnessed the fight, saw the tall, blue-eyed man dive for cover and, at the same time, observed more of the killers moving into a position that would soon trap the stranger. He must make his move now.

***

Jim scrambled through the brush, vines whipping at him, slapping his skin. Unfortunately, he now knew that running was pointless - his senses told him that he was surrounded, escape impossible.

He stopped and, while catching his breath, listened. They were all around him and moving in for the kill.

He had only one choice. To fight.

Jim stood tall - ready and waiting.

Brushes rustled, footsteps moving closer. To his right there were at least two about to breakthrough to his position. Sure enough, a moment later, they did just that. He knew how he must look to them: tall, bleeding, but ready to fight.

They simply raised their rifles.

At the same time, the air above them came alive with movement. A whooshing sound behind Jim captured not only his attention, but that of the men as well. Jim whirled around and looked up, expecting to see more men about to descend upon him, but instead, found himself staring at the impossible.

A man - wearing little to nothing - was bearing down on him from the air, one hand outstretched, offering rescue from certain death. Jim had the fleeting impression of flying brown hair and startling sea-blue eyes before reaching up toward safety. Flesh touched flesh, wrists gripping hard - and he felt himself lifted miraculously off the ground. He raised his left arm, grasped a part of the vine and, the next thing he knew, he was flying.

Jim felt a strong arm encircle his waist, anchoring him until his purchase was solid, and then they were moving up and away from the stunned men below; men so shocked, they couldn't even fire their weapons. Mouths agape, they watched as the two men disappeared into the canopy of green above them.

***

Jim was in excellent shape and agile in his own right, but nothing could have prepared him for the Tarzan act that went hand in hand with flying from tree to tree. The exchange of vines made by his savior happened so fast and with such agility, Jim barely had a chance to register it. As they flew, he found himself unable to concentrate on the man, to get some sense of him other than warm skin. The only thing Jim was sure of now, was that his rescuer wasn't completely naked but he'd be damned if he could describe the tan blur of cloth that flapped a bit in the wind they created as they moved through the trees.

Just when Jim thought they'd never stop even though they had to be miles from the killers, they landed on another tree - and there they remained. Maybe now, after he caught his breath, Jim would have the chance check out the person who'd rescued him - but just as he turned to him, the man rested a finger against his lips, pointed down, and then lowered himself easily and lightly to the ground. Once there, he motioned for Jim to follow his lead.

More than a little wary, Jim looked down and thought this might not be the best time to decide he suffered from a fear of heights. No, he could do this - after all, he was a cop and an ex-Ranger and could slide down the vine just like his ghost man.

So he did. Maybe not as graceful, but he got there, and so what if he landed on his butt?

Trying to look as if that had been his intention all along, he casually shifted so that his back was resting against the tree he'd just exited. Meanwhile, his weird Tarzan simply looked at him, one eyebrow arched. Jim decided to ignore the implication - namely that he needed to rest when they should be moving - and stay right where he was. At that moment, his rescuer noticed the gash in Jim's arm and immediately started searching the ground for something.

Puzzled, Jim watched the man as he plucked leaves and flowers from around them and then brought them over to him. The man squatted down, wrapped his hand around a nearby rock and used it to pound the plants he'd gathered together - and while Jim had no idea what he was doing, at least he had his chance to truly observe him. The first thing he noticed was that Ebo's ghost man was young, at least ten years younger than Jim, which put him in his mid-twenties. He had a broad forehead, high cheekbones, a strong chin and lush, full lips. He was also shorter than Jim, but lean and muscular, every movement economized and graceful. His hair was indeed brown, a rich auburn with streaks of light in it and, yes, it was long and - curly.

Smiling, Jim would have to make sure the history books were changed. Tarzan definitely had curly hair - even on his chest, where the soft mat of it went from shoulder to shoulder and then downward, the hair narrowing as it approached his stomach. It thinned to a fine point that disappeared below the piece of cloth that barely covered the man's genitals.

In Jim's world, this man would have been considered beautiful, but here, in the jungle, he was exotic, dazzling in his grace, agility and beauty.

Jim studied the 'loincloth' and confirmed that, just like in the movies, it was made up of a thin piece of leather holding an irregular patch of stretched, dried animal skin in front and back.

As he squatted, doing his work, Jim could trace the outline of his right ass cheek, see a tantalizing bit of pale skin, all of which caused a sharp intake of breath. That brought the ghost man's head up, his eyes asking if Jim was all right. Jim could only nod as he forced his eyes back to watching the slender, strong hands work their magic on the plants.

After pulverizing the leaves and flowers into a kind of paste, the man moved to Jim's side, knelt down, caught Jim's eyes, silently requested permission to help - so Jim again nodded. The man tore carefully at the bloodstained shirt to reveal a very nasty gash, still oozing blood. He smeared the paste liberally over the wound, from top to bottom and then, once again, mutely requested permission. Jim nodded, not sure what he was giving permission _for_ but figuring the ghost man had done good by him so far. That's when his savior leaned across Jim, curls brushing lightly against Jim's face and neck. The man's scent rose up and Jim inhaled deeply, reveling in the mixture of earthiness, maleness and the salty mix of sweat and adrenaline.

The man tore a bit of cloth from the bottom of Jim's shirt and used it to quickly and efficiently bind the paste to the wound. When he was done, he stood, looked about him and, with a signal telling Jim to remain seated, he moved about, stooping every so often to pick up small pebbles and bits of wood. When he was satisfied, he returned to Jim's side, took Jim's left hand and poured the pebbles into it. He straightened, motioned upward, indicating that he was about to go back up. He then mimed that Jim should drop a pebble as he held up five fingers.

The light dawned for the older man. It was a timing device. The ghost man was telling him that he was leaving, but that by the time the pebbles were gone, he'd be back. Jim could only nod as it was evident that the man didn't speak and undoubtedly wouldn't understand Jim's words.

A moment later, with one worried look back, the ghost man disappeared from view and Jim was alone.

With the exit of his Tarzan, Jim felt so bereft, it was frightening. But at least he understood why he felt the way he did. Ebo's ghost man was what Jim had been moving toward. In his presence he'd felt complete, his senses calm. The man's touch had soothed the tingling and the excitement had faded to a quiet, comforting buzz.

Jim was no stranger to the delights of the male form, but his reaction to this man, to this particular male form, went beyond anything he'd experienced before. Questions began to assault him. Who was this guy? How had he come to be here? Did he truly live in the wild?

He pictured the young man again and his detective's mind told him something was wrong with the vision. Tarzan's hair wasn't exactly a straggly mess and its scent had been clean and natural. His heightened eyesight had also caught the fact that it was trimmed regularly - and not roughly either. Then there was his face with its two day growth of stubble - which meant the guy shaved. Nothing like a regularly groomed Tarzan - one that supposedly lived with gorillas.

Jim wasn't buying it. Not entirely. Then Jim remembered the tribe Ebo had talked about, the Magharibi. Perhaps he lived with them? And if so, he had to understand Swahili, right? Jim's shoulders slumped. That wouldn't do Jim much good since his knowledge of the language was limited to the basics, like name, asking about the time, where was he and 'I'll take a beer'. On the other hand, they'd had no difficulty understanding each other, no trouble at all, and Jim hadn't missed the keen intelligence in those sparkling blue eyes.

A real puzzle, this ghost man. But hell, Jim was a detective.

***

He glided through the trees, covering as much area as possible, making certain that the enemy was no longer a threat to the stranger. He knew his family was safe and, as he moved silently over his land, felt stirrings that had long been squelched. The tall man had moved him as no other and he understood that he'd found what he'd been looking for all his life.

Unfortunately, with that knowledge came a bittersweet truth; what good was finding this man when he never felt so apart from the world outside his home than now? The tall, blue-eyed stranger came from another world and would return to it while he, Bakari, would remain here.

He scanned the area below, looking for signs of Ebo and, thankfully, found them. Ebo was safe, the body of one of the mercenaries on the ground below him told him that - and of course, Ebo knew the way to the village. He could return to the stranger knowing that Ebo and the villagers were safe - for now.

***

Jim looked at his empty hand - he'd just dropped the last pebble. He glanced up and the young man stood there, quiet, watching, studying him as he'd been studied not so very long ago.

How long had he been there and why hadn't Jim sensed him?

He got to his feet as the man moved silently toward him, his eyes never leaving Jim's. When he stood inches away, he pointed up.

Of course - it was obviously time to take to the skies again. Oh, goody.

When they landed this time, it was actually on the ground, thank God, and in an area that Jim could only describe as paradise. It was lighter here, with more room for the sun to slide between the trees. A nearby rushing sound told him they were near water. Jim's flying partner moved off and Jim followed, watching the play of muscles along the slender back and the sway of the back piece of the tan cloth.

They emerged into what would be considered a glen back home, one that bordered a small lake and waterfall. The beauty of it stole Jim's breath away. As he gasped at the sight, his ghost man glanced over his shoulder at him, caught the wonder on Jim's face - and smiled - a genuine, cover-to- cover grin that transformed him from an exotic creature to someone very real. Jim was left breathless.

Then, with an impatient wave of his hand, the ghost man indicated that Jim should remove his clothes - but before Jim could say a word or do a thing, the man climbed the rocks to the top of the falls and, with barely a pause, dove in, his body slicing through the water with the barest splash.

That was all it took to convince Jim to strip down to his boxers and join his ghost man.

The water was cool, refreshing and invigorating. Jim swam somewhat clumsily, his arm hampering him a bit, but not really interfering with his enjoyment.

Many times in the next several minutes, he caught his ghost man staring with what Jim could only describe as approval. They swam, dove, but oddly enough, stayed several feet apart, their behavior reminding Jim of a species of bird that did some kind of dance ritual prior to mating. Was that what was happening here?

They were certainly dancing around each other...and he was sure his ghost man was as much aware of this as Jim, the occasional glimmer of a smile told him that.

By mutual, albeit silent, agreement, both men climbed out and dropped onto the soft, lush grass to dry.

The afternoon was almost gone and a sweet lethargy overtook Jim and, before he knew it, he was asleep.

***

Bakari rolled onto his side and took in his fill of his stranger. He took in every inch of the well muscled form and, with some hesitation, reached out and touched the still wet, smooth chest, so unlike his own.

This stranger was his. He knew it and, yes, he belonged to him in return. The how and why of it were a mystery to him as was the reason for allowing them to find each other when staying together was impossible - but for now, he'd look his fill, accept this and enjoy it for as long as it lasted. He glanced upward and frowned. It was time to wake him, to take him to the Magharibi. A battle to remove a cancer from his jungle was coming - and it was time to prepare.

***

Only two of the mercenaries made it back to the camp and the story they told of the flying white man caused quite a bit of concern among the men. Only one man seemed unconcerned and, in fact, voiced an interest in the 'flying white man'. As his men talked, he listened and smiled.

So, the Ghost Man was real...which meant if caught...would bring a fortune on the open market, not to mention that once he was gone, the gorillas would be easy targets.

The man, George Akiris, turned to his 2IC, murmured new orders and watched as more of his men moved out - this time more heavily armed than the first group and led by his best.

***

Jim was awakened by a trickle of water sliding down his face. He opened his eyes to see his jungle-man gazing down at him, a small bit of water sliding through his fisted hand to land on Jim's face. Well, what do you know, it seemed Blue-Eyes had a sense of humor. Before he could even think of a suitable retaliation the young man was pointing through the jungle growth and Jim instinctively knew he was being told to get up, that it was time to move on.

He'd assumed they would take to the trees again, but he was wrong. His jungle-man headed straight for the bush instead.

As he kept easy pace with the man, he found himself hungering for the sound of a human voice, even if it was his own. He was not a talker by nature but these circumstances were pretty unique.

"I figure you don't speak English, so won't understand me, but...."

His voice trailed off when the younger man stopped, tilted his head a bit and waited.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Jim stammered out a, "Uh, I just...well--"

This time he was stopped by the young man's sudden lack of attention. Instead of listening, he was searching the ground for something - which evidently he spotted because he bent down, picked up a small twig, swept aside the leaves and jungle growth and began to make figures in the ground.

Jim watched in fascination as what appeared to be a village began to take shape in the wet earth. When satisfied, Blue-eyes pointed the stick at Jim, then down to the "village" in the dirt, then back to Jim.

"I get it, you're taking me here." He indicated the 'drawing' When the man nodded, Jim decided to find out if this was the village Ebo had told him about, so said simply, "The Magharibi?"

The man's eyes widened at the word, but he nevertheless nodded. Great, so he'd understood the word and what Jim had been asking. That meant there was hope for communication. He pointed to himself and said, "Jim." After a minute passed, he pointed again and repeated his name.

It took two more tries before his Tarzan rewarded him with a dazzling smile and said "Jim" while touching Jim's chest. Jim was so excited, he nearly jumped for joy. He smiled back in return and took another step towards foreign relations. He touched the younger man's chest, cocked his head and waited. When nothing happened, he did it again - and then again.

He was about to try for a third time when Tarzan spoke.

"Bakari".

Bakari. Damn, he'd actually been hoping he'd say 'Tarzan'. Then he grinned. He felt as though he'd just discovered the atom or at least sliced bread. He repeated the name and, for the next two minutes, the men went back and forth, saying each others names as if it were the greatest accomplishment in the world - and for them, maybe it was.

Jim could have stayed right there, exchanging more, listening to Bakari's voice as he said his name, but it was soon obvious that they needed to get going.

They started up again and he realized they were gradually climbing higher. The afternoon waned and dusk fell but Bakari showed no signs of slowing. Which left Jim wanted to hear human voices again, so he started talking.

Bakari slowed, allowed Jim to catch up so that they were now walking side by side and, to Jim, it seemed he was actually listening even though he couldn't possibly understand a single word. Which worked well for Jim - it allowed him to tell the man things he'd told no one for years. He talked of his years in the military, his enforced eighteen months in the jungles of Peru with the Chopec - and how his senses had come online, overwhelming him until one of the Chopec, their shaman, Incacha, had helped to harness them and use them to keep the pass. Then he spoke of his rescue and subsequent years as a detective for the Cascade Police Department. He talked about how his senses had seemed to go away, then told Bakari of his friends back home as they climbed higher through the Bwindi Forest. Even as he spoke, a part of Jim was acknowledging the fact that he was probably now in an area never seen by any tourist.

As they continued their trek, he talked of his home; the loft, his sanctuary - and finally about the return of his senses in a recent bombing incident.

Through all his revelations, Bakari seemed to listen and Jim had the absurd feeling that Bakari somehow understood, which was ridiculous - but comforting. Sharing like this seemed right - but then, that was probably _because_ he knew Bakari couldn't understand him, which made it safe.

Jim finally wound down and took stock of his surroundings only to find it was now almost completely dark. His sight wasn't hampered by the loss of daylight and he'd barely noticed how his vision just seemed to compensate on its own. Bakari certainly had no difficulty seeing either, but then Jim would wager that the young man knew every inch of this forest.

Jim was so involved with his own thoughts that it didn't register that Bakari had stopped until Jim almost bumped into him. Jim watched the younger man's face, noticed the cocked head and realized how much he looked the way Jim did when he was trying to focus one of his senses.

Jim concentrated...and was able to identify movement ahead - slow, lumbering movement - but before he could guess at what it was, Bakari rested his hand on Jim's chest and pointed to the ground with his other hand. Jim got it. He was to stay put. He nodded his understanding and Bakari moved off.

Jim waited but, when the waiting seemed to go on and on, he started to worry. He was a patient man, but he was also a detective. He focused his hearing again and, with a start, realized that Bakari was only a few hundred feet to Jim's right...and he wasn't alone.

Jim started walking, following the sounds. He maneuvered through the jungle until he was close enough to see, parted some leaves - and caught his breath at the sight before him.

Three gorillas and Bakari.

The gorillas were seated, Bakari in front of them on his hands and knees, all skin and hair, locks hiding his face as he seemingly acted out their own recent adventures. Occasionally, he'd make signs with his hands as a soft whooshing sound came from his mouth - soon followed by other strange and exotic sounds that signified communication with the gorillas.

The animals sat and watched, snorting softly at times, their liquid brown eyes watching Bakari's every move. Jim could have sworn they even laughed a couple of times.

He found himself thoroughly entranced and charmed in spite of the fact that he was a spy, observing that which he'd not been invited to witness.

Suddenly Bakari stood and faced him - as if he could see him through the brush of the forest. Suddenly he smiled and beckoned. Jim stepped sheepishly through the brush and, just as he cleared it, stopped.

Bakari used two fingers to point to his own eyes, then Jim's, then down to the ground, telling Jim that it was all right to approach, but only with eyes downcast. Jim did as instructed until he was even with the man. Bakari squatted and pulled at Jim's shirt, bringing him down to the gorillas level.

Once there, Bakari took Jim's hand gently in his own and held it out to the nearest gorilla and said, "Orantu". A large, brown hand moved toward Jim's and he felt his heart clamor into his throat as he realized he was about to touch a gorilla. Their fingers made gentle contact and remained until the large, gentle beast leaned forward and did some snuffling. At that point, Bakari repeated, "Orantu" and signaled for Jim to raise his eyes.

At the moment his blue eyes connected with the soft brown ones, his whole world shifted.

He saw intelligence, life, history, eons of gorillas, all in that one gaze. His heart was overwhelmed with the beauty, innocence, and _ancientness_ of the animal in front of him. He wanted to grin madly, but something reminded him not to show his teeth, so he let his eyes do his smiling for him.

Bakari moved behind the large gorilla, who was now running his large hand over Jim's clothing and hair, to take something from one of the smaller gorillas. He came back to squat at Jim's side and show him what he now cradled in his arms.

A baby gorilla.

Jim gasped in delight as small black fingers, curious fingers, began to wrap around Bakari's hair, curling around one chunk and yanking hard enough to pull Bakari's head down, where upon the small gorilla gave what could only be described as a raspberry. This gave Jim his third surprise of the day; Bakari's laughter. It seemed to bubble up and burst forth, silvery and low. It immediately crawled inside him and made itself at home.

***

Jim didn't know how long they remained with the gorillas, playing with them, watching them groom each other and then observing as they took turns grooming Bakari, but eventually, all good things had to end and Bakari finally got to his feet. He signaled with his hands again and, with obvious reluctance, the gorillas moved off, giving one final - sad - backward glance before disappearing into the forest.

It was just the two of them once more as they stood side by side, listening in their own way to the sounds of the gorillas moving up to safety. Jim wanted to thank Bakari for this night, for the miracle he'd been party to...but the words would be meaningless to Bakari, so he contented himself with a smile and received the same back. Then they were on the move again themselves.

***

The mercenaries had their orders. They were to lay a trap for a gorilla and hope to bait the Ghost Man to a rescue. They had dart guns, nets, and a cage for their eventual prize. Now all they needed was a gorilla. They lucked out. A baby had wandered off from the pack and the men captured it easily.

Now time for the trap.

They looked forward to this, specifically to their portion of the money the so-called 'ghost man' would bring.

***

Jim heard the village before he saw it. He smelled their cooking, heard the activity and, less than an hour after leaving the gorillas, finally entered a clearing and Jim got his first glimpse of the Magharibi.

Activity stopped as the two men entered the outer perimeter, but Jim could detect no fear, only curiosity. Suddenly, Jim heard his own name and saw Ebo coming toward him, arms outstretched.

"Ebo, you're alive!"

"Yes, Rafiki, but I can not say the same for the soldier who came after me. I am pleased you are well."

"I seemed to have received a bit of help."

Ebo smiled slyly and added, "Ah, yes, our Ghost Man. You have met Bakari I see?"

Jim shook his head in disgust as it became apparent that Ebo had known about Bakari all along. "I do believe you conned me, Ebo."

"Why Rafiki, me? Not at all." But his smile said very differently.

During the exchange between Ebo and Jim, Bakari had simply stood quietly watching. But soon, another man came up beside Ebo, a tall, white man, dressed in the black cossack of a priest.

Ebo guided him to Jim and, with a huge smile, introduced them. "Jim, this is Father Benjamin. The only other white man besides Bakari to live with the Magharibi. Father Benjamin, this is Detective James Ellison of Cascade in America."

The priest put out a strong hand and, as they shook, Jim found himself looking into eyes almost as ancient as the gorillas. Father Benjamin appeared to be in his early sixties with a shock of snow white hair and eyes so light brown, they appeared almost golden.

"Detective Ellison, I'm very glad Bakari found you and was able to bring you to us." As Father Benjamin spoke, his eyes went to Bakari. His forehead was creased by a small frown, but then he smiled and gave Bakari a nod. He took Jim's arm and started to lead him to a small hut. "You must be hungry and your arm needs to be re-bandaged. Come with me and, after a good meal, we will talk of what must be done to protect our mountain."

There seemed to be no question that Jim and Ebo would indeed be a part of whatever was necessary to protect the forest, and Jim couldn't have agreed more even if he'd been asked. He turned to see Bakari but instead, watched in shock as he moved swiftly back into the jungle, two tribesmen close behind him.

"Ebo? Where's he going?"

"There is another tourist party on its way up. He will use the Magharibi to warn and protect them. Do not worry, he will soon be back. There is much to plan."

***

Bakari took to the air, the Magharibi traveling swiftly below him, following his lead. It didn't take long to reach the other tracking party and, as Bakari stayed above and out of sight, the men made a few bird calls.

Below Bakari, four men and two women sat around a campfire while a fifth man, their guide, discussed tomorrow's adventure. As the calls from the Magharibi filled the night air, the guide looked up and around, excused himself and melted into the night.

A few minutes later, after a rapid discussion with the tribesmen, the guide moved back into camp and quickly began giving orders. Bakari watched as the tribesmen moved away, but he remained, waiting. He would follow the party a bit, ensure their safety, before making his way back to the village.

The men and women below were questioning, but the guide's words assured them of the urgency and soon the camp was dismantled, the party moving quickly down the mountain.

For three hours, Bakari followed - until the group meant up with two officers of the Ugandan Wildlife Authority on their evening patrol. The guide took the two men aside and, after much gesturing, one officer began to speak into a two-way radio.

Certain that the authorities now knew of the danger and that the people were safe, Bakari began his journey back to the village - back to his Jim.

He had traveled half the distance when a cry pierced the air. He recognized it immediately. It was the cry of Nusu, the baby that only hours before he'd been cradling in his arms. Nusu was obviously terrified and clearly in danger.

Bakari's speed through the air increased as he barely allowed himself to land before taking flight again. His body moved almost of its own accord, finely tuned muscles working automatically as strong hands grasped vines that no one else would even see - and lean legs wrapped themselves around the strong _ropes_ that carried him.

As the cries grew louder, more frantic, he flew faster and faster still, hair flying behind him, blue eyes seeing what only one other pair of blue eyes would have been able to see.

When he was close to the terrified gorilla, he dropped to the jungle floor, ran swiftly for several hundred feet before once again grabbing a vine in order to take a few shorter flights over the jungle, lower now, following Nusu's cries.

He sped confidently up and down branches, silently closing in on the frightened animal, eyes and ears alert for the danger, but unprepared for the camouflaged soldiers hiding below him, guns ready.

When he reached Nusu's location, he stopped, knelt on a branch, looked down, and spotted the baby apparently trapped in some vines, arms and legs thrashing in panic, cries splitting the air. He waited just a moment, to be sure it was safe and, when satisfied, dropped down and moved silently forward.

He never saw the man stand and take aim, but he most certainly felt the sharp jab of the dart as it penetrated his neck. He reached a hand up, grasped the feathered dart, but before he could pull it out, he pitched forward to land face down on the jungle floor.

The men moved in on the prone man, wicked smiles of satisfaction on each face. The net hadn't been unnecessary after all. A cage was brought out from behind a large tree and the man was lifted and unceremoniously stuffed inside. Poles were fitted through each side and the cage was lifted by two of the soldiers. One man walked over to the baby, pulled out his sidearm and took aim.

A hand on the soldier's arm stopped him from firing. "No. It can be sold alive. Put it in the cage with our Ghost Man."

The mercenary looked as though he might disobey, the thought of killing the small beast an excitement running through his blood, but eventually he holstered his gun, grabbed the beast, opened the cage door, and tossed it in with the unconscious man. The small gorilla immediately curled up against Bakari's chest, its fingers fisting around now damp curls. It turned its head away from the men, snuffled miserably, and wound in on itself, the beating heart of Bakari keeping him quiet.

The men moved out, the cage swaying with their pace.

***

The Magharibi were curious about this new white man and were gathered around Father Benjamin's quarters, peering inside, watching, pointing, and whispering amongst themselves. Jim, seated with the priest and Ebo, couldn't help but catch one word being repeated by the tribesmen: Dingane. He'd ask about it later - but for now, his appetite was taking front and center, not to mention the opportunity to quiz the priest and Ebo. As he sopped up fragrant stew juices with chunks of spicy flat bread, he bombarded the two men with his queries until Father Benjamin laughingly held up one hand in surrender.

"Please, I can not possible answer everything. Why don't I have leave Ebo here with you while you finish your meal and he can share what he knows while I attend to a couple of issues with the Magharibi?"

A quick, secretive look passed between Ebo and the priest as Ebo nodded and Father Benjamin took his leave.

"So, you wish to know about our Bakari?"

"I do. For instance - what does 'Bakari' mean?"

"It was the gift of the Magharibi and means, "One with Great Promise". They chose it based on a prophecy made over fifty years ago by Kamau, the Magharibi spiritual leader - or as you might say," he grinned, "witch doctor. But let me start with Bakari's beginning as I know it." Ebo reached for the mug of wine, took a sip, then began.

"In late 1969, a plane crashed on our mountain and all but a single baby perished. This child was taken into one of gorilla families and raised by them. As he grew, so grew the legends. He eventually became their protector. The Magharibi revered him as they revere the gorilla and, together, theykeep our mountain safe."

"He actually _lives_ with the gorillas?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes here."

"But he shaves."

One eyebrow rose humorously. "This is a bad thing, Rafiki? Or perhaps, in your world, there is a law that says Tarzan shall not shave?"

"Actually, now that I think about it, all the movies showed a very clean-shaven Tarzan." They both laughed but then Jim asked, "Did anyone try to find surviving family?"

"I know that Father Benjamin made inquiries, but as to the results, you will have to ask him."

"All right - so then tell me more about this prophecy you mentioned."

"Ah, yes. Kamau predicted that a child would come to our mountain from the sky and live with the gorillas. He also predicted a great battle with many lives lost, but that the child grown to manhood would prevail with aid from his Dingane. The mountain and the gorillas would then be safe from that day forward."

Jim had sat up at the same word he'd heard the Magharibi whispering outside. "Dingane?"

"Kamau said the protector would have a mate he called, _One Who Searches_ or 'Dingane'. Together, they would emerge victorious." Ebo lowered his head and added, "The Magharibi believe that _you_ are Dingane." Ebo raised his eyes to his friend, seemed to search his face, then asked, hesitantly, "Does this...bother you?"

Jim sat back with a whoosh of escaping air.

Mate.

Dingane.

In all honesty, the only thing he didn't like was the fact that he was pretty sure he wasn't this Dingane guy. Although - he could certainly recognize how appropriate the name was when applied to him. Hadn't he been searching for something all his life? Could any phrase better describe him?

"No, Ebo, I am not bothered. I felt a connection to this place since my arrival. One that only grew with my first glimpse of Bakari. I can't deny it. Nor do I wish to. I feel...at home with him. But I don't believe I'm this Dingane - nor do I think Bakari feels as I do."

Ebo smiled even as he hastened to reassure him. "I believe you have no need to fear on that account. I too felt the connection between you. It was electric."

Ebo's words alleviated some of Jim's worries, but until Bakari's return, Jim could only wait to find out for sure. In the meantime, he had more questions to ask. "How is it that no one knows the truth about Bakari? You yourself did nothing to hide the mystery."

"That's exactly why. Mystery. We have worked hard to create just that feeling - as well as a degree of fear. Oh, not to the tourists, but to those who would destroy this mountain and the lives it protects. So, a legend was born. A legend of of a people who move unseen and of he who flies through the skies. I am pleased to say...it works."

"Until now?"

Ebo's face darkened in rage. "Yes, until now. The battle was foretold, as was its conclusion. These men have made a grave error and the conclusion will be bloody. The Magharibi will destroy those who seek to destroy. Does being a part of this worry you?"

Jim's own face hardened as his mind conjured up the visions of the destroyed camp and, in a voice steel hard, said, "No. This is one battle I'll gladly join."

Both men were quiet in their contemplation of the men who dared come to this mountain to kill. But a memory surfaced for Jim, a memory that left him cold and shaking. "Ebo, the soldiers today - they saw Bakari. They saw him!"

Ebo shook his head, puzzled, "I don't understand, what--"

But then horror spread across his handsome features as understanding dawned. But before he could say more, Jim was already moving quickly outside.

"Jim, wait...what can you do?"

Jim didn't pause, he simply said over his shoulder, "I'm going after him, that's what."

***

Awareness came sluggishly as Bakari struggled back to consciousness. His mouth was horribly dry, his head pounding. He tried to move, but two things happened at once; he hit something metallic and heard a small whimper. He forced his eyes open - and the first thing he saw was Nusu, peering intently back at him while, at the same time, trying to literally crawl inside Bakari. In an effort to comfort the baby, he made a low humming sound in his chest and Nusu snuffled a bit and then quieted.

Bakari moved his head slightly and found the source of the metal.

He'd been caged.

"I see our Apeman is awake."

Bakari lifted his head, experienced a sharp pain with the action - and found himself staring at smiling brown eyes

"I do hope your accommodations are adequate? I wouldn't want our prize to suffer."

Bakari simply stared up at the man, giving nothing away. His captor's eyes narrowed in return as he leaned back on his haunches. Then he gave a quick shake of his head and the evil smile returned.

"You're much younger than your legend would suggest and I must confess that I'm surprised by your appearance." Brown eyes traveled down the trapped man's body, then back up to the expressionless face. The intrusive scrutiny continued, taking in his hair, mouth, and eyes. The man's gaze took in the threaded leather cord around Bakari's neck and then he frowned as he concentrated on Bakari as he gently stroked the frightened baby gorilla. His interest was neither on the hand nor the gorilla, but rather the multi-layered, multi-colored braided leather circlet around Bakari's wrist.

The man slipped his hand between the bars and stroked the leather in wonder.

It took everything Bakari had not to move, to fight or slap the offending hand away. He held his revulsion in check and continued to comfort Nusu.

The man continued to finger the bracelets as he finally said, "This is magnificent work and not by gorillas. The design is unique and new to me." He locked gazes with Bakari again. "Perhaps you are not the only myth to see the light of day."

He reached lower then, his finger tracing the slender leather thread that hugged one hip and, as he touched skin and moved down, a different expression took over the man's features as he ran his tongue slowly across his bottom lip.

"I was considering selling you to a less than reputable university, but now...now I believe there may be another market...oh, yes, you'll bring much more on the block. In fact, perhaps I shall sample the wares myself...."

He was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of his mercenaries. He pulled away and quickly got to his feet. With a final look down, he said easily, "Now don't go anywhere, we have much to discuss."

As the man strode away, Bakari let out a long breath. Now that he was alone, he took valuable minutes to look around him. He spotted the crates marked **Ammo** , noted the number of men moving about the camp and then he sat back against the bars and simply listened - and learned.

They were here to destroy, to do the bidding of the men who lived in riches but wanted more. Their leader was a man called George Akiris; the man who'd just left his side.

Fools - all of them. Not only would they fail, but many would not leave this mountain alive.

Bakari began to study his cage.

***

As Jim attempted to leave the village, Ebo caught his sleeve and maneuvered himself to stand in front of him. "You can not go alone. If he is in danger, the Magharibi must help. Please wait and allow me get their assistance."

Everything in Jim said to hurry, but a small part of him understood the wisdom of Ebo's words - so he nodded, but his blood was boiling and the heat would not wait long.

As Ebo turned, the two men who'd accompanied Bakari into the forest returned. Jim waited while Ebo talked and gestured wildly, while Father Benjamin joined them, his own face suddenly paling as Ebo spoke to him - but still - Jim waited.

Finally, just when Jim could wait no longer, Ebo and fifteen Magharibi joined him. Ebo held out a rifle and a knife. Jim took both as he looked at the natives. They carried spears, bows, knives. They were armed to the teeth, but their weapons were no match for the mercenaries.

"Ebo, there's no way they can--"

"Trust me when I tell you that the killers are no match for the Magharibi." Ebo looked at his companions and smiled. "We are ready."

For some reason, Jim believed him. He nodded and, as they moved out, a rustling in the bush just ahead stopped them. As Jim watched, utterly amazed, a huge silverback gorilla came through the brush. The great beast knelt, eyes searching, as Ebo breathed out, "Orantu".

The gorilla's search came to a halt as his eyes landed on Jim. The great head moved and the gorilla disappeared back into the bush - his message clear. They were to follow.

They followed.

As the Magharibi army left the village, led by Jim and Orantu, Father Benjamin prayed.

*****

Bakari had been routinely testing the strength of his prison and had, so far, found no weakness. Nusu was awake, shivering and whimpering in hunger. Behind the cage stood a stand of tall reeds, undoubtedly full of insects. Bakari maneuvered his severely cramped body around, biting back a groan as his muscles complained. He wiggled an arm through the narrow space between the bars and managed to snag several of the precious reeds. He pulled them in and Nusu grabbed them immediately. Using fingers and tongue, he began to strip them bare, to pry for the insects buried deep within their green depths.

Bakari put his arm through again, to snag more, but stinging leather flicked down, lashing at his forearm, leaving a long, thin stream of red on the exposed skin. He quickly retracted his arm and jerked his head up, looking for his tormentor.

One of the mercenaries stood a few feet away recoiling the black whip he'd just used. He watched Bakari with such contempt, a blast of cold spread through the younger man. The man moved to the front of the cage and, as he did, he unfurled the whip, raised his arm and, with amazing speed and accuracy, flicked the whip down so that it slid easily through the bars and connected with Bakari's left shoulder.

The action was repeated again and again as Bakari tried to curl his body protectively around Nusu. More often than not, the biting leather found its mark on an arm, bare back, legs, neck and even one slight flick to Bakari's left cheek. Through it all, Bakari made no sound, just lay curled around the shaking bundle of fur.

"Halt!"

George Akiris ran forward and roughly grabbed the man's arm before another downward motion could inflict more damage.

"Are you deliberately trying to rob us of a fortune by marking up our treasure?" He then spoke tersely in French and the soldier stalked off, but not before giving one last, hate-filled glance at Bakari.

Akiris moved to the cage, taking in the many thin lines of red. He stood for several seconds, eyes unreadable. Bakari stared back, expression equally unreadable.

"He thinks you're the devil - but he's my best so I put up with a great deal. But trust me, he will not come near you again. I promise." Akiris continued to stare as Bakari absently stroked the shivering Nusu. He watched as the man quieted the animal with the constant stroking and small, reassuring sounds.

Akiris gave himself a mental shake and, without another glance, walked away.

Bakari's eyes followed the man's movement across the camp until a movement to his right captured his attention. He peered into the darkness and spotted a pair of brown eyes looking back at him.

Orantu.

He smiled.

***

Jim and the Magharibi had traveled over two hours, a full moon lighting their way. Orantu stayed well ahead, somehow knowing that Jim could keep him within hearing range.

After another twenty minutes, Jim stopped and held up one hand. The camp was not far, he could already hear the men, their movements and talk. He turned to Ebo. "They're just ahead and there are about twenty of them - and yes, they have him."

Ebo nodded and translated. One native stepped forward and spoke quickly. Again Ebo nodded. "Abasi believes that he and his men can provide a distraction that would allow you to free him. Will that work for you?"

Jim heard, but did not take in Ebo's words. He could smell blood and knew it was Bakari's.

"Jim?"

"He's hurt," Jim said, his voice sounding far away. "There's blood."

Ebo didn't question Jim's words, simply spoke again to Abasi and, soon after, the men broke into three groups and disappeared into the jungle.

"Go. We will give you what you need to free him. Take him. We will protect and stop the soldiers. Go."

Jim nodded and moved just as silently into the jungle, slinging the rifle back over his shoulder and drawing out the knife. He was focused on only one thing, the scent of Bakari's blood.

The Chopec warrior he'd once been - had returned.

***

Strange noises suddenly filled the night air. Loud, blood curdling wails, roars and ear-splitting howls. The mercenaries stopped whatever they were doing to stand and listen, tendrils of fear moving through them. Frightened faces turned to each other, questions unasked but visible in their eyes.

Suddenly there was a whir and a whoosh...and one man fell dead, a small arrow buried in his neck.

Panic quickly ensued as men ran while reaching for their weapons, but there were more whirs and whooshing and more men fell. Meanwhile the sounds around the camp increased. The screams pierced their brains, the wailing crawled under their skin until the well-trained men fumbled and scrambled for cover, weapons dropped and forgotten.

A brave few knelt, powerful weapons of destruction raised and aimed, but they never had the chance to fire as each man fell silently, all with small, colorful arrows protruding from their necks.

Jim moved silently through it all, having spotted the cage with Bakari and Nusu.

***

Bakari clutched Nusu to his chest as he noted Jim's stealthy movement in his direction. He was ready.

***

George Akiris stood just outside his tent, watching as his highly paid soldiers fell apart and - fell. He looked across the camp to the cage, his brown eyes meeting triumphant blues.

A single shot suddenly rang out and the lock on the cage fell to the ground.

***

On the opposite side of the compound, hidden behind a tower of crates, the whip-wielding soldier watched as their captive crawled from the cage to stand, albeit painfully - gorilla still in his arms. He then watched as a tall white man stepped from the shadows of the jungle.

The soldier no longer cared about money - he wanted the freakish ghost man dead. He raised his gun, took careful aim on the bare, vulnerable back...and squeezed the trigger.

***

George Akiris walked through the center of his camp, heedless of the destruction occurring all around him and unaware that one of his men was taking aim on his prisoner. Akiris had only one thought: stop the escape of his treasure.

His.

He stepped between his 2IC and Bakari and lifted his weapon to take aim at the tall man who was in the process of taking his prize.

***

The air was suddenly pierced by the single crack of a rifle. As Jim and Bakari turned toward him, Akiris' rifle dropped from his hand as he gazed down in surprise at the spreading red stain on his shirt front. The bullet meant for Bakari - had struck him instead.

He fell forward, dead as he hit the ground.

Jim searched for the new danger and quickly spotted the mercenary who'd just fired - a man who was, even now, preparing to fire again. Jim pushed Bakari aside, knelt, took aim and fired. The bullet entered the soldier's left eye, killing him instantly.

As his body hit the ground, Jim, Bakari and Nusu disappeared into the night.

The Magharibi melted away and the compound was still and quiet - with only the dead remaining.

Slowly, a large dark shape moved into the center of the camp...stood up and, fists beating his chest, Orantu yelled his superiority.

***

In spite of his hours cramped in a cage that was barely large enough for a small child - and the wounds inflicted by the whip - Bakari moved swiftly through the dark, dense growth, Nusu shivering against his chest, a worried Jim hurrying to catch up. As Jim moved up alongside Bakari, his eyes took in the angry red lines that crisscrossed his back, shoulders, arms and legs, and his anger rose again, anger at anyone that could harm him.

They had traveled two or three miles by Jim's reckoning when Bakari came to a stop. The farther they'd moved from the camp, the more alert Nusu had become - but now he was still, his furry round head peeking over Bakari's protective arm, chocolate brown eyes widening. He began to sniff and, a moment later, started bouncing in Bakari's arms while making small chittering sounds.

Figuring that Nusu knew something Jim didn't, he focused his hearing and...sure enough, heard two gorillas approaching. Minutes later, two females broke through the brush. Bakari stepped forward as the larger of the two joined him.

He watched with surprise as she reached out and actually cuffed Bakari behind his ear. At the same time, Nusu scrambled from Bakari's arms to the female's, at which time, she loped back to the second gorilla. It was to her that Nusu made his final jump and, once there, began to suckle. Evidently, Nusu was home and in his mother's embrace.

The larger female returned to Bakari's side and, for a moment they gazed at each other before she touched one of his wounds and made a clucking noise as her cheeks poofed out. Bakari smiled and shook his head fondly, the way a son would at an overprotective mother. They moved together then, the gorilla resting her forehead against Bakari's chest as her long arms wound around him. They remained in that position for several minutes until the female, who Jim now realized must be the gorilla who'd raised Bakari, turned her sad, ancient eyes to him. He held his breath as she pulled away from her son, turned him around and, with a gentle huff, pushed him to Jim.

Jim recognized it for what it was: a blessing - a strange one, but a blessing nevertheless.

The gorillas then turned and moved into the darkness, but not before Bakari's 'mother' gave one last, sad look at her son.

***

The two men stood in front of each other, Bakari looking up at Jim. The gesture made by Bakari's 'mother' said so much and left Jim wondering if this was what he'd been searching for all these years. Was the man standing before him, everything he'd needed and desired?

And if so, how did Bakari feel about him?

"Jim."

His name, coming from Bakari and spoken roughly, shocked Jim, but the manner in which Bakari had managed to say it filled Jim with joy. He grinned and held out his hand.

A slow, easy smile spread over Bakari's face as he slipped his hand into Jim's.

Now that the question of how Bakari felt about him had been answered, hand-holding wasn't nearly enough. He wanted more, so he pulled the man closer and, not knowing what Bakari had experienced in the area of physical relationships, let his lips hover over Bakari's. The next move had to be Bakari's.

A moment later - Bakari rested his lips against Jim's.

With that simple touch - and the acceptance it represented - the jungle night exploded for Jim. He ran his tongue across the inviting bottom lip, then pushed gently. Bakari's lips parted and Jim moved in even as he pulled Bakari closer. He let his fingers dance down his spine, ghosting over the wounds to rest against the soft, silken flesh barely hidden by the loincloth.

In the middle of the kiss, Jim was surprised when Bakari hurriedly, albeit clumsily, began to pull at the zipper of his jeans. He pulled away and smiled at the deep, animalistic groan from Bakari as he covered Bakari's hand with his own to assist him with his zipper.

It didn't take long to get Jim naked and the two of them on the ground despite their continued attention to the whole exploration thing and the kissing - oh, yeah, the kissing thing. Their moans, mixed with the night sounds of the Bwindi Impentetrable Forest, acted like a potent drink for Jim and he fastened his mouth on the soft, fleshy juncture between Bakari's neck and shoulder. When he bit down lightly, Bakari wrapped a leg around him to, Jim thought, hold him in place. But he was wrong. A moment later, he was the one on his back. Bakari straddled him and, with hair falling forward to brush Jim's sensitive skin, kissed him long and hard.

The slightly damp but still soft jungle grass beneath him seemed to be part of a sexual conspiracy against him. He felt everything, heard everything, smelled everything - with nothing overpowering him. Instead, they blended like the finest orchestra to produce a series of sensations that played through him. He arched to every touch of Bakari's and, when the younger man finally released his mouth and began to travel downward, Jim had the fleeting thought that this...musical...could lead to a very embarrassing replay of his first time, one that had ended with a premature crescendo, so to speak. But then, miraculously, Bakari slowed, giving Jim a chance to catch his breath and even grin at his own musically inspired romantic thoughts.

Just when Jim was starting to grow impatient, though, Bakari reached his cock. All thoughts of forests, music, orchestras or anything else were scattered to the winds as he almost convulsed in shock, his fingers digging into Bakari's hair. He just had time to wonder if Jane enjoyed her Tarzan nearly as much as Jim was enjoying his - when Bakari took his cock into his mouth. Jesus, he was going to explode....

***

Complete silence. Absolute.

Jim, his senses dulled by his orgasm, could hear nothing, and he couldn't have cared less.

The first sound he finally recognized was the steady, slow, beat of Bakari's heart. He shifted his head enough so that he was resting directly over the rhythmic thrumming - a sound now so necessary to his very being. The next thing he was conscious of was Bakari's hand, stroking through his short, cropped hair. Then he noticed another sound - this one coming from Bakari as well. He was - humming. All right, not exactly humming, not in the traditional sense, but whatever it was - it soothed him and seemed to resonate with him, like the forest surrounding them and all the creatures who lived within its heart.

He lifted his head to look at Bakari, took in his hair, which was a tousled mess, full of leaves and twigs - his thick, kissed-bruised lips, which were slightly parted, and he knew there was no sight he'd ever see that could do to him - what the sight of this man, after love, was doing to him. He wanted to ask about the non-humming - how he was creating it, but he decided that could wait. Right now, he just wanted to take in every exposed inch of Bakari - and then he remembered the wounds.

He stumbled to his feet, looked around for his clothing, grabbed up his shorts and then looked down at Bakari, but what he saw in his face stopped him in his tracks.

Bakari suddenly seemed to close down, as if a shutter had been lowered. As Jim stared at him, he got slowly to his feet and moved backward. He looked quickly to right, then his left and, to Jim, looked as if about to bolt. That's when it hit Jim. Of course - one minute they'd been experiencing post-coital bliss and the next, Jim had jumped up to get dressed - and to Bakari's thinking - leave.

In an effort to show him how wrong he was, Jim reached out a hand and smiled tenderly but Bakari simply took another step back, his face still expressionless.

Jim pointed to Bakari's wounds, took a careful step forward. Bakari stayed where he was. Jim took another step, and another. When Bakari remained where he was, Jim took two more steps and was now within reach. He ran one finger carefully down Bakari's arm, right next to one of the longer lash marks.

"Bakari." Jim spoke the name softly even as his finger hovered over another lash mark before pointing down to where they'd made love - and then back to the wound.

Understanding dawned and Bakari gave him a sheepish grin even as his face flushed a deep red. Jim brought his hand to Bakari's chin and tilted his head up enough to kiss him - deep and loving, letting all his feelings pass through him to Bakari; praying that the kiss said all that he could not, would succeed where words could not be understood.

When he lifted his lips from Bakari's and looked into his eyes, he was overjoyed to find the understanding he sought - and the returned love. They both smiled then but before Jim had a chance to even attempt to take care of Bakari's injuries - not that he had a clue how he would - Bakari pointed up at the trees and vines. Looked as though they were about to be airborn again.

Jim quickly donned the rest of his clothes and had just buttoned the last button when Bakari started climbing the tree behind him and, with a shrug, Jim followed. Moments later, they were flying through the night sky, moving in complete unison. After several swings and exchanges, Jim could see a large tree ahead, one of the largest he'd seen to date. At the same time, Bakari changed their direction, making it obvious the tree was their destination.

They landed surefooted and, once more, Bakari pointed upward, indicating they still had some climbing to do. Jim followed him as they walked over moss- covered limbs, the moon giving the tree a glittery life of its own. Jim fell slightly behind, so enthralled was he by the play of silver and shadows as they crossed Bakari's lean, strong body. Suddenly, Bakari stopped, turned, and faced Jim, a look of uncertainty crossing his features as he waved an arm around them.

Ah, Jim got it. This was Bakari's home.

Okay, once again, the movies got it wrong. There were no rails, no furniture. On the other hand, there was no 'Jane' to add those nice comforts of home, either. But nevertheless, this was Bakari's home.

Several strong branches were interwoven to form a broad 'cup', and it was here that Bakari had created his retreat. There was protection above, as he'd apparently taken fronds and latticed them across the limbs that stretched above his home to make a roof. The 'floor' was simply more fronds, grasses and reeds, spread out and piled up to provide padding. Jim sensed that Bakari was waiting for his approval so Jim grinned broadly and held out his hand again. Bakari's returning smile nearly eclipsed the full moon with its brightness. He led Jim into the shelter.

***

Morning came and, with it, Jim's awareness of the warm body next to him. He opened his eyes and glanced down, but all he could see was a mass of brown curls. He frowned when he realized that Bakari's skin was far too warm. He lifted his head and, as his eyes adjusted, could now see that some of the welts were an angry, swollen red. Bakari woke then, saw the worry and the concern - and pulled gently away.

It was obvious that Bakari was in pain, his face slightly flushed with fever, but Bakari made a movement indicating that Jim should follow him. They climbed down the tree and moved maybe twenty yards or so away and Jim finally heard what he should have heard much sooner: water.

Bakari parted the brush and there it was - the very waterfall and stream they'd first visited. Bakari moved slowly and painfully to the water's edge before carefully slipping in. Jim started to remove his clothes, but their smell decided him against it. They needed washing as much as he did so he plunged in just as he was.

This time, there was no swimming or playing since it was obvious to Jim that Bakari was using the water as a starting point for tending his injuries. He moved gently through the water and over to the falls where he let the sluicing liquid cleanse and purify the lash marks. Jim joined him, but only to stand in the waist-deep water and watch. After several pounding minutes, with some wounds opening and bleeding again, Bakari motioned to an array of flowers that bordered one side of the stream, indicating that Jim should gather some of them up. He swam over, plucked several of them from their stems, and brought them back.

Bakari immediately began to tear them into pieces and, as he did, and the water met the sap, it started to foam. Jim smiled at the jungle soap and swam back for more.

Minutes later both men were lathering, rinsing and lathering again. Bakari let Jim gently soap some of the deeper lashes, then his hair. When Bakari was rinsed a final time, he turned to Jim and began to strip him. Once his clothes were removed, Bakari laid them out on a flat, dry rock and returned to the water.

They remained in the cool, soothing depths for another hour, swimming lazily and floating as the water helped to defeat Bakari's fever and keep the pain at bay.

Eventually, Bakari climbed out and Jim followed every move, watched from the water as Bakari gathered some leaves, one plant in particular, whose thick stems were snapped and added to Bakari's pile.

Curious, Jim swam over to his clothes, which were now dry, climbed out and quickly slipped into them. With a nod, Bakari headed back to the tree, his treasures resting safely in Jim's pockets. As they walked, Bakari took a detour, disappeared for a moment, but when he returned, it was with his arms full of fruit. Smiling, Jim thought he couldn't get a better looking chef/waiter anywhere.

***

Both men sat cross-legged, several pieces of fruit between them. Jim followed Bakari's lead and tore chunks of the succulent, fleshy fruit and plopped it into his mouth. A line of juice was running down Jim's chin, but before he could capture it, Bakari caught it with his own finger - at which time, Jim caught the finger and gently pulled it into his mouth. The taste was perfect.

When they'd arrived back at the tree, Bakari had once again done his medical miracle by taking several of the collected leaves and flowers and making another paste, this time more gel-like in nature. He'd then allowed Jim to apply it to each open wound. The gel disappeared into the skin and Jim could see that its properties were immediately soothing as well as providing a protective coating.

Now, with Bakari obviously feeling better, they fed each other while birds darted overhead and the sounds of the jungle serenaded them. For Jim, it was pure heaven. A heaven that ended too soon because when the last piece of fruit disappeared, Bakari stood and looked at him expectantly. Jim just assumed they'd stay awhile, that he'd have a chance to learn more about Bakari's world, but evidently, Bakari had something else in mind. Jim had no choice but to get to his feet as well - and follow Bakari's lead. He wasn't surprised when they ended up back at the village.

Ebo and Father Benjamin came out to greet them and when the priest got a look at Bakari's wounds, he took him to his quarters, which left a very confused Jim standing with Ebo.

"So, Rafiki, we were successful, were we not?"

Jim watched as the priest and Bakari disappeared into the hut before turning his attention to Ebo. "Yes, but for how long?"

"I have no worries on that score. We will not be bothered again."

Jim smiled wryly as he asked, "Because of the prophecy?"

"That and more." Ebo deliberately left it vague, delighting in Jim's puzzled expression. "And speaking of the prophecy? Are you...Dingane?"

Jim glanced back at the hut and shrugged. He still had no answer to that. After all, he'd nothing more than help.

Ebo's eyes were full of understanding. "It is difficult to accept that which is so far removed from all you've ever known. But I have no doubt that all questions will be answered - just not at a time we could wish." He followed Jim's gaze to the hut and added, "I am surprised you came back so early. You have over two weeks left of your time with us and I thought you might have spent them Bakari."

"So did I, Ebo. Returning now wasn't my idea."

Before Ebo could comment, Father Benjamin and Bakari came out. The priest walked toward them while Bakari remained where he was, his face a mask, giving away nothing.

Father Benjamin placed a hand on Jim's arm and said, "May I have a word with you?"

Jim looked from Father Benjamin to Bakari and back. He had a very bad feeling about this.

"Please, Bakari wishes this. Will you come with me?"

Surrendering against his better judgment, Jim nodded and followed the priest to another hut. Inside, he found a bed, a small chest at its foot, a desk in the corner - covered with books and notebooks - and above it, a small book shelf holding about ten more books.

Father Benjamin walked over to the shelf and extricated a very old, very used book, opened it, thumbed to a specific page and then turned to Jim. "Bakari wishes me to show you this. He indicated to me that it would be of use to you." He held it out and, as Jim took it, added, "It's a monogram by Sir Richard Burton. In it, he discusses South American tribes and their guardians, men he called sentinels. Men who have such heightened senses, they are able to protect their tribe from competing tribes. Bakari believes you are such an individual."

Clutching the book, Jim said, "A sentinel? Me?"

"Yes, you." The priest indicated the other books. "These belonged to a young man who studied anthropology. Sentinels were his dream and Bakari knows this. He has studied you, as have I and, yes, I believe Bakari is correct; you are a sentinel with all five heightened senses." Father Benjamin retrieved a notebook from a drawer and handed that to Jim as well. "Here are the young man's notes. I suggest you study them. Bakari has already returned to the forest - he wishes to spend some time with his family, but will return in two days. This is his wish."

The notebook was full of a large, sprawling handwriting, the words in English. On the front was a name; Blair Sandburg. Jim looked at the priest, so many questions in his eyes.

"Please, just read and study and we'll talk as you need."

Jim tapped the notebook. "Who was this young man?"

Eyes clouding over, Father Benjamin said, "He was my...son, but he is...gone. Will you take the two days as Bakari wishes?"

"It looks as though I have no choice - so yeah, I'll read all of this."

The priest smiled, indicated that Jim should make himself comfortable on the bed, then left him to the books and notes of Blair Sandburg.

Jim sat down and looked around him, searching for some sign of the man who'd lived here, something more personal than the books. He even checked the chest - but found, of course, more books. There were no clues to be found, other than his own hand-written words in a notebook.

It was obvious that Father Benjamin kept this hut clean, kept as it had been for the man he'd called his son.

Curiosity a fire in his belly, Jim opened the notebook and began to read - and as he did, he came to know Blair Sandburg. His notes were full of observations, excitement, humor and flashes of brilliant insights. Jim was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange sadness that he'd missed meeting this man, a man now dead. The sadness constricted his throat, nearly closing it down - and he felt an unaccustomed wetness filling his eyes and spilling over onto his cheeks.

But he read on.

***

The two days passed swiftly and Jim learned who and what he was. A Sentinel who must protect his tribe. The days were easier than he thought they'd be, thanks in part to the fact that Blair Sandburg was his companion. He could almost hear the man's voice when reading his words, feel the excitement Sandburg would have experienced if he'd come face-to-face with Jim, a real sentinel. He learned a great deal, thanks to the fact that Sandburg's entire thought process about sentinels were in his notes.

Jim also recognized one other fact: his tribe was in Cascade. He was bound to his city, to its people. If he'd any doubts left that he wasn't 'Dingane' - this was it.

So where did that leave him and Bakari? And who was Dingane?

By mid-day of the second day, all his questions about himself had been answered, but he had so many more about Blair Sandburg. He didn't feel he could ask Father Benjamin - he didn't want to add to the man's pain - but maybe Ebo, who'd left with a few tribesmen at the same time as Bakari, could help upon his return. Jim couldn't help feeling that somehow he and the anthropologist were somehow connected.

As it happened, Ebo and the others returned just before sunset.

***

Jim sat with the others around a blazing fire as the tribe celebrated. They beat their drums and raised their voices in such beautiful chanting that Jim was immediately reminded of Bakari. The sounds and percussion all served to bring back the feel of having him in his arms, feeling his skin, breathing him in, tasting him.

Bakari was this mountain.

With that thought came his answer as to what could happen to the two of them. Bakari was the mountain - Jim was Cascade. With a heavy heart, Jim realized that was precisely why Bakari had left him for the last two days. It wasn't just to show Jim who he really was, but to show him the full truth.

***

For Bakari the two days spent with his family, foraging with them, playing, teaching the young ones, and helping Nusu return to his playful, mischievous self, all passed too quickly.

Now Kaleefa, Bakari's gorilla mother, watched in sadness as her son moved with his brothers, groomed and was groomed, and cavorted with the young ones. She knew he was troubled, understood that he was facing a great loss. She could feel it in the heat of his body, in the great emptiness in his eyes - yet she could do nothing other than love him, as she had always done.

His wounds were almost healed, but she feared there was another, deeper wound, and it would never heal.

At the moment, Nusu was playing a game of hide and seek on Orantu and Bakari sat quietly by her side - so she reached out one hand and laid it on his heart. He turned to her and nodded his head, then gave a sign, taking his two hands and miming the breaking of twig. She gave a sad huff and drew him to her breast, holding him as he shook.

***

On the morning of the third day, Bakari entered the village to find Jim waiting for him - as he'd known he would be. He'd have heard his approach long before anyone else.

They stood in front of each other, bodies leaning forward, almost unconsciously, but not touching. Bakari pointed up to the sky and raised one eyebrow. Jim understood he was asking when would he leave. He checked the ground, found a twig and drew seven suns in the dirt. Bakari nodded and reached out his hand.

Jim took it and the two men left the village.

They had seven days left and they would spend it together, in Bakari's tree house.

***

It was their last day together and Jim sat quietly - and as unobtrusively as possible - while he watched the gorillas come. They moved in slowly, uncertain, but following Bakari's lead and soon the small jungle meadow was filled with an entire family. Only Kaleefa and Orantu remained near the edge of the meadow while watching indulgently as Bakari introduced each of the others to Jim.

As Jim met each one, he thought enviously of Doctor Doolittle and his ability to 'talk to the animals' - but in spite of not being Doctor Doolittle, the next several hours were simply a miracle for Jim. With Nusu glued to his side, he watched in wonder and delight at the interaction between the apes, their playfulness, and even the loving discipline bestowed on naughty young ones by their mothers.

Now, two young males were apparently challenging Bakari to something and while at first he refused to be baited, eventually they won because he nodded, tapped his fist to his chest and the next thing Jim knew, the two gorillas and Bakari were tumbling and flipping each other. Bakari was obviously very adept at the game and Jim was seeing a whole new side to him - a youthfulness and playfulness he'd not seen before.

Grinning, he watched as Bakari did a tumbling move toward one of the gorillas, his face contorted into the wild, scary visage of an ape. He made wildly funny and threatening sounds deep in his chest, causing the other two to scurry off, only to tumble back, legs kicking out, arms wrapping around Bakari's neck to take him down. Finally Bakari's laughter rang out as he jumped away, dropped down on his knees and fingers, looking for all the world like a football player ready for the snap. The two apes followed suit and, in a face-off, they all snarled, moved from side to side...and then, in a flash, Bakari thrust himself forward and took both apes down, all three now rolling with Bakari using his feet to connect with their chests. They were both sent flying over his head.

Bakari then stood, raised his head and gave a deep, blood-burning yell, a sound so strange, so intoxicating, Jim felt the heat rise in his body as his blood scorched his veins.

The two apes loped forward and, when they reached Bakari, they took turns touching their chests to Bakari's before scrambling off to find another playmate.

Bakari walked to Jim's side, and Nusu, who'd been watching the 'fight' with great interest, immediately threw himself from Jim's arms to Bakari's. He then scrunched up his face while trying to mimic the sound Bakari had made a moment before - only it came out like a soft, rumbling moo than a roar. Bakari answered back with a softer, lighter version of the yell and Nusu chittered happily, pulling on Bakari's curls as he bounced.

The sun was setting and, with great sadness, Jim realized their day of play with the apes was at an end. The great beasts moved out, some stopping to touch Bakari lightly, some even bold enough to touch Jim. Kaleefa was last and, once again, she touched her forehead to his chest - but this time - she did the same to Jim. His heart swelled at the gesture.

***

As Jim and Bakari moved through the jungle, Jim was suddenly struck by a mischievous devil. He let Bakari get a few feet ahead...and then he pounced.

Soon they were repeating their own version of the game Bakari had played with the gorillas earlier; tumbling and wrestling and then coming apart long enough to bare their teeth at each other before leaping at each other again. Jim's strength and learned combat techniques made him an equal match for Bakari's agility and size. Where Jim had the muscles, Bakari had the moves and the wrestling match would have gone on indefinitely if Jim hadn't - finally - gotten Bakari under him. Wrestling was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

As he balanced himself above his captive, holding Bakari's outstretched wrists, he watched with satisfaction as Bakari's laughter stopped and his humorous expression was replaced by lust. At that moment, Jim wanted nothing more than to be as close to Bakari as humanly possible. He lowered himself until their lips could meet and, when Bakari's lips parted, Jim dove in with his tongue.

But it wasn't enough for either of them. Bakari broke the kiss first, pushing up, wanting to move and Jim followed. They made fast work of returning to the tree, where they fell onto the soft, fragrant grasses, arms and legs entwining, gentle moans driving them on as their tongues battled for dominance.

It didn't take Bakari long to get Jim unclothed, his own bit of cloth no barrier to their lovemaking. They rolled and wrestled, laughing, kissing, exploring.

Their passion grew, doubled and tripled as their sweat mingled and their moans grew more harsh as needs escalated.

Bakari wound his legs around Jim's waist, clinging with all his strength, needing something he could only express with his eyes. His movement brought Jim's cock into perfect alignment with his ass and Jim shuddered at the touch. But Bakari could not know what was needed to make this happen, to make it safe for him, so Jim started to pull away - until he spotted the plants Bakari had used to make the healing gel. He looked down at the panting face below and tried to sign his needs.

Bakari seemed to understand and, without moving from under Jim's body, reached out and grasped a handful of the heavy stalks he'd collected but never used. He crushed them in his hand and out poured a white, thick sap which smelled like spice, into Jim's palm.

Jim used it to prepare them both before moving slowly and lovingly into Bakari, his senses telling him everything he needed to know. As Bakari shuddered with passion and his eyes turned from cornflower blue to midnight velvet, Jim entered him.

For a moment...time froze...but then Bakari jerked upward with his hips and demanded movement from Jim - who happily complied. Soon both were moving in a rhythm as old as time.

Bakari gripped Jim's hips, pulling hard, wanting more, so Jim moved faster and harder even as his lips locked onto Bakari's. Their lovemaking took on a desperate edge, both men trying to create a memory that would have to last a lifetime.

***

The moonlight snuck through the branches, a few lines of light crisscrossing their 'bed'. They held each other, their bodies covered in sweat. Around them, the creatures of the jungle went about their business.

***

It was time to return Jim to the Magharibi village, where Ebo waited to take him down the mountain, to civilization and back to his own world.

Standing next to the tree, Bakari said his goodbye by removing one of the leather braids from around his wrist and sliding it over Jim's. Then he took his hand and together, they started for the village.

***

Jim stood in the middle of the village, looking at the Magharibi who ringed him, their expressions sad at his going. Bakari and Father Benjamin stood next to each other but even to Jim, Bakari's face was strangely unreadable. He knew the pain of leaving was almost unbearable for him - and knew damn well that no matter how Bakari looked now - among the tribesmen of the Magharibi - he felt the same. Jim walked to Bakari's side and did two things. First he placed his forehead against Bakari's chest - then placed Bakari's hand on his own heart. Face pale - and with unshed tears waiting for privacy to fall, Bakari repeated the gesture...and then Jim and Ebo left the village.

***

Jim had been gone for several over four hours and Bakari had not left the small precipice that overlooked his forest.

Father Benjamin placed a hand on the trembling shoulder. "It is time, Bakari."

The man didn't move so the priest gently tugged at one arm.

***

Jim's flight was already boarding when Ebo got them to the airport, so they said their good-byes next to the gate.

"Thank you for everything, Ebo. You've given me a gift I can never repay," Jim said as people moved past them to board.

Ebo shook his head. "I am not so sure I have done my best for you, Rafiki."

Jim held out his hand. "How this ends doesn't change all that I was given - trust me on that. I have no regrets."

Ebo searched his friend's face and found, yes, sorrow and loss, but also truth. He took the extended hand but, instead of shaking it - used it to pull Jim into a hug. "Thank you, Dingane." Then, with a wave, he melted into the crowd and Jim was alone.

Or at least as alone as possible in a busy airport. Thanks to the journals of Blair Sandburg, the noises of the airport were of no significance - he had no trouble 'dialing' down his hearing.

Jim pulled out his ticket and gave it the woman at the gate. She smiled and waved him through the door and down the ramp to the plane where he settled into his window seat. As he gazed out onto the tarmac, he idly wondered if, when aloft, he'd actually be able to see the Bwindi Forest and Bakari....

"I believe this is my seat?"

Jim turned his head, eyes slightly downcast so the first thing he saw were a pair of faded blue jeans. He looked up a bit, saw a tucked-in white oxford shirt that was open at the collar, showing a tantalizing bit of chest hair. The man was also wearing a faded brown leather bomber jacket. Finally Jim looked up at the face of the man who'd be his seat mate for the trip home...and his jaw dropped open.

His seatmate had a strong, handsome, almost beautiful face with wide sapphire blue eyes crinkled in mirth. Lush lips were formed into a smile and long curly hair was pulled back and held together by a leather thong. Slung over the man's shoulder was a well-worn duffel bag, which, after a shocked nod by Jim, was stored in the overhead compartment - right next to Jim's. After closing it, the young man looked back down at his flight companion and stuck out a strong, tanned hand. The sleeve of his shirt road up a bit to reveal a wrist encircled by braided leather band - a perfect match to the one on Jim's wrist.

"Hi, my name is Blair Sandburg. And you?"

Jim could only blink rapidly as Bakari took the seat next to him. Once the rapid eye blinking stopped he could only stare.

Bakari/Blair put on his seatbelt and, when he noticed that Jim wasn't wearing his yet, reached over and buckled him in, his smile reaching epic proportions as he asked, "Is it a long flight to London? And how much longer to Washington? That's where I'm going, by the way. Cascade, Washington. I'm meeting my lover. He lives there, you know. Hey, you're not much of a talker, I see. But that's okay, I am. Some tell me I talk too much."

Jim went back to rapid eye blinking.

"You know, I've led a pretty interesting life." He took off his jacket and got settled in. "When I was a baby, my mother was traveling to Nairobi with me but our plane went down. This part is sad, because everyone on board died except me. She's buried in the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest. Have you ever been there? Well, anyway, I was actually raised by gorillas. Yes, I'm serious, gorillas. When I was ten, I was found by a priest who'd come to work with Dian Fossey, you know, the gorilla lady? Gorillas in the Mist? Anyway, Father Benjamin raised me from that point after finding out who I was and that I had no family. He schooled me and, when I was sixteen, I tested for college. I was immensely interested in Anthropology, especially a warrior of ancient tribes called a Sentinel. Anyway, I was accepted at Oxford University...ah, I see you look surprised, but yes, I mean the Oxford University. I received my Master's in Anthropology, but trouble was brewing on my mountain and the gorillas were in danger so I returned."

With a beautiful smile on his face, Jim settled back in his seat. It would be a long flight, but with Bakari - no - with Blair - by his side, he knew it would pass quickly and enjoyably.

He went back to listening, a habit for which he would become very proficient.

"Once I returned, I decided to stay but I can't explain why except that, somehow, I knew my destiny was on his way and may I say, he took his own damn sweet time about getting there?"

The plane took off, but neither man noticed. Below them, the Impenetrable Forest remained impenetrable and safe.

***

Cascade, Washington - two weeks after Jim's return -

Jim pulled his Ford into the underground parking lot and parked in his space. He and his companion got out and began to walk to the elevator.

"Let's go over it again, it's still not working."

"Aw, man, what's wrong with it?"

"For one thing, you've got to drop the thin blue line thing."

"No, no, no...that's some of my best stuff, Jim."

"Just drop it, Chief, okay?"

"Hey, I may be the rookie in your jungle, but when it comes to thesis-speak, I'm a pro."

"You're an anthropologist and closet Tarzan and our job is to get Simon Banks to believe you're studying police science so we can get him to let you ride along with me." Jim stopped then and cocked his head.

Curious, Blair asked, "What's up?"

"I smell blood."

Almost bouncing with excitement, Blair said, "Oh, man, this is terrific, I cut my finger this morning slicing your bagel."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with knives?"

"Jim, my mother didn't even know what a knife was."

***

In the next several days, several wealthy and less than reputable men received strange packages in the mail from Uganda. Upon opening them, they discovered contents so grisly, they all went into hiding.

 

The End -- Bakari

** **** **

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for non-con ideas, violence and graphic animal cruelty


End file.
